The Ghost with the Most
by InkSplots
Summary: Sloane and her roommates are just trying to survive long enough to move up in the world, but the ghost haunting their house wants them out bad enough to hire the Netherworld's leading bio-exorcist. Who will win in the battle of wills? Rated M for language and mild horror scenarios. OC-based, movie universe with elements of the musical.
1. Chapter One

**The Ghost with the Most**

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own the rights to _Beetlejuice_ or any related titles, characters, plots, settings, etc. These rights belong to their legal owners. I own only the original elements of this story, the writing and publishing of which earn me no money.

* * *

Chapter One

"So," Beetlejuice drawled slowly, leaning back in the chair he had summoned for himself. "You need a bio-exorcist. What's the matter with the folks who moved into your house? Too progressive for ya?"

The young ghost who had uncomfortably perched on the chair across from Beej pushed the glasses up his nose. The kid looked like he had been a hipster in life, wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a button-down shirt. His hair was perfectly combed and his nails were trimmed. Beej kinda hated him on principle.

"They just- They aren't-" the ghost fidgeted with every lazy circle of Beej's hand telling him to speed things up. "They scared away my cat!"

"They- Are you kiddin' me here? That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard!" Beej let the chair's legs fall back to meet the floor with a loud _crack!_, one he amplified with a touch of juice. The ghost jumped. "Are ya wasting my time here, guy?"

"N-No, sir."

"Sir? You know my name, ya used it to summon me. I mean, not that I want you to use it. Makes me a little _antsy_ if you know what I mean." With the word 'antsy', Beej made his eyes switch completely to black as his voice deepened.

"I understand," the ghost agreed shakily. "Look, I want them out of my house. I've tried scaring them out myself, but it hasn't worked so far. I heard you're the best."

Beej preened a little under the praise. "Well, that is true. What's your name, kid?"

"Jimmy."

"I think I'm startin' to see the problem here."

"What?"

"Nothing. So, what's happened when you tried to scare the breathers who moved into your house?"

"Well, I can scare two of them without a problem, but the third… She's stubborn."

"Okay, I get it. You want me to kill her."

"No! No. I don't want that. I can't afford the addition to my sentence." Jimmy shakily smoothed down his hair and adjusted his glasses. "I just want them out."

"So you can't scare the last one." Jimmy nodded and Beej nodded along with him. "But you won't kill her?" Jimmy shook his head and Beej thought about it. "Yeah, but _I_ could kill her. You'll get a slight increase on your sentence, but nothing huge."

"A slight increase? How is that possible? The book said that killing a human gives an automatic 500-year sentence on top of what you already owe."

Beej chuckled. "Let's just say there are ways around the system. I can make it look low-level enough that it'll never even ding the system."

"You can do that?"

The poltergeist took a moment to savor the awed expression on young Jimmy's face before brutally stomping on his hopefulness with a cruel laugh. "_You_ can't do that, _I_ can. One of the perks of riding shotgun to Juno for a couple-a centuries."

"Oh. Is there any way you could just… teach me how to scare people?" Jimmy asked hopefully.

"Sure thing, Jimbo. You can go with the instructor package, no problem. 'Course, the price is a bit higher cause I'm teachin' a man to fish and all of that."

"I- I don't actually have any money," Jimmy admitted.

"Money? Who gives a shit? What is a ghost gonna do with money? We take payment in different ways than the breathers."

"Well, what would you want?"

"Let's see… I would be helping get rid of a stubborn mortal plus two others, teaching my valuable and admittedly awesome skills to someone, and then there's the fee for this here consultation… Final price: you have to get a mortal to say my name three times, you'll adopt five years of my sentence, and you'll owe me one favor to be redeemed at my convenience at any point from the completion of your training until the day one of us moves into the next world. Do we have a deal?"

Jimmy looked queasy at the terms, a neat trick for a ghost. "I don't suppose you're open for bargaining on any of those terms?"

"Nope," Beej refused, letting the 'p' pop into an echo.

"Then I guess we have a deal."

"Great! Happy to be workin' with you! You're gonna love me." Beej flung himself forward and into Jimmy's arms, planting a firm kiss on his lips at the same time. He pushed Jimmy away in the next moment and the ghost fell. Beej looked down at him with an eyebrow raised. "Now, don't be swooning over me yet! We have work to do."

Jimmy swiped at his mouth with his sleeve, pulling a disgusted face as he did so. He stood slowly, keeping an exaggerated distance from Beej. It nearly made the poltergeist smile.

"I'm gonna need a full rundown of the residents."

"They almost seem to know I'm here."

"That's a good start," Beej encouraged.

Jimmy sighed and shook his head. "They don't take me seriously. They call me Skip."

"Still better than Jimmy," he muttered.

"What?"

"Uh, nothing. Why do they call you that?"

"I used to interfere with their internet and it made their Netflix skip."

Ha! Classic. Beej managed to keep a straight face, but it was close. "Okay, and the breathers specifically? What are we working with?"

"There's a guy, Milo. He's loud, laughs a lot, but he is superstitious. I've gotten him almost ready to move out a few times."

"Okay, that's something, at least. And the others?"

"One of the girls is named Harper. She's really stressed out and jumpy. I can get her crying with only a few words," Jimmy revealed proudly.

"Words?"

"Yeah, I just whisper in her ear and she starts crying, like… soon afterward."

"Jimbo…" Beej sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Most mortals don't notice the dead."

"I know that, it's the whole reason you're here!" Jimmy said frustratedly.

With exaggerated patience, Beej continued making his point. "_So_, if you whisper and she starts crying, she's either psychic or she was gonna start crying anyway."

"Oh." Jimmy morosely kicked at the flipped-up corner of a carpet. It didn't move. "What are the odds that she's psychic?"

"Low, kid. Real low."

"Look, can you help me or not?"

There it was: a way out. It was on the tip of Beej's tongue to renege on their offer and get the Hecate outta dodge, but… five years was a healthy reduction of Beej's sentence. Jimmy was new dead, gullible. Most ghosts wouldn't give him a day over two years, and that was with no favors and no evocations of his name.

Besides, the afterlife was starting to get boring. Maybe this situation would be a bit of a challenge. A slight hint of one - the La Croix of challenges, one could say - but it was something new anyway. "You said there was one more, the broad giving you all the trouble. What's her deal?"

"Oh, Sloane." Beej didn't miss Jimmy's subtle drop in volume when he said her name and fought not to roll his eyes. "She's… kind of hardcore."

* * *

Sloane successfully let herself inside the house after winning the typical fight to unlock the ancient door. Like everything else in the run-down house, the door seemed almost possessed at times. When she made it into the living room, Harper and Milo smiled over at her.

"I know you'll want to shower, but I made dinner. It's ready as soon as you are," Harper informed her.

Sloane smiled gratefully at her roommate, also one of her closest friends. "Thanks, Harper. How was the store today?"

Harper pulled a dramatic face. The elegant blonde worked at a candy store in their coastal Floridian town and had some incredible stories about the things customers would say and do. "You could definitely tell that there's a full moon tonight," she answered dryly.

"Your sleeve is ripped, Sloane," Milo pointed out, hardly sparing a glance from his laptop. It must have been his day off. Milo was a tour guide around the historical sections of their town. Since Halloween was coming up and the beach days were coming to a close - a temporary one since this _was _Florida - the tours had shifted to a focus on spooky stuff.

"You haven't glanced up once since I got home. How did you see that?"

Milo swiveled in his chair, fixing her with a wide-eyed stare that made him look rather remarkably like he was a hardcore drug user. "I see you, Sloane…" he whispered hoarsely.

"Freak," she tossed back with a laugh. "Save it for your ghost tours. How are they going, by the way?"

"Awesomely! Last night, I scared a lady so bad that she almost started crying."

"She saw your face?" Sloane asked sympathetically.

Milo barked out a laugh and playfully flipped her off. She had been joking - mostly. Milo wasn't a bad-looking guy, but he was disconcertingly tall with hair and eyebrows so light as to be nearly invisible, a startling contrast to his ultra-dark brown eyes.

Harper stepped closer to take a look at Sloane's sleeve. "What happened today?"

Sloane shrugged. "I had a bit of a fight with an engine block. It got some good hits in, but I think I won."

"You work too hard," Harper said with a shake of her head.

"Says the girl who hasn't worked less than a ten-hour shift in the past month," Sloane scoffed.

"I have to get the hours while I can! The holidays will be busy, but they've already warned us that hours will be cut significantly from New Year's Day until spring break hits. Milo's in the same boat. We have to rack up funds while we can."

The familiar knot of financial worry tightened in Sloane's gut, but she feigned indifference. "Luckily for us, cars break down every day, no matter what time of year it is. We'll be fine, guys."

"You shouldn't have to support us," Harper insisted, shame filling her expression.

"Hey, stop that," Sloane reprimanded. "This is just until you guys get your real careers started. Then you'll have to support me in the lifestyle I plan to become accustomed to."

"Deal!" Milo agreed heartily, swiveling back to his game.

"Go shower, Sloane. You need to eat something," Harper reminded.

"Fine, okay, I'm leaving. Don't you two start making out while I'm gone," Sloane teased before slipping into her bedroom. The last glimpse she caught before her door closed was Milo's suddenly-tense posture and Harper's blazing face.

"They'll be dating before next Halloween," she muttered to herself in the empty room. With a sigh, she carefully set aside her mechanic's uniform to be sewn up and gathered her pajamas before retreating to the shared bathroom.

* * *

"Hardcore?" Beej repeated, staring at Jimmy with a single eyebrow raised. He had taken some time to watch the others, but Sloane emerged from the bathroom with her dark hair piled on her head. A pair of men's pajama pants dragged the floor and a loose tee shirt billowed around her, revealing most of her collarbone while obscuring everything else.

Jimmy shrugged uncomfortably, but Beej pressed the issue. "She's half your size and still breathes for a living. Are you seriously intimidated by someone like that?"

"She can't be scared!"

Beej scoffed. "Everyone can be scared. _I _can be scared, and I'm a helluva lot older and tougher than that broad."

"What scares a poltergeist?" Jimmy asked, head tilted in confusion.

"Demons," Beej explained shortly with a not-entirely-fake shudder. "They're a whole 'nother breed of nasty and they don't know how to be anything less than killers. But let's get back to you! I'm going to take the job and get rid of these breathers for you. Do we have a deal?"

"Y- Yes! Yes, we do!" Jimmy stammered excitedly before shaking Beej's hand vigorously. "Thank you!"

"No, thank _you_, kid," Beej said, scarcely stifling the cackle forming in the back of his throat. "Let's get started then, huh?"

"Right now?"

"Uh, yeah? What do you think is going to happen if you wait longer?"

"Maybe they would move out of my house?"

Beej grinned widely. "That's the beauty of our deal! Even if the breathers decide they don't wanna live in your old house anymore, you'll still owe me what you've promised."

"Oh," Jimmy said, deflated. "Let's get started, then."

"Okay, lesson one: you're one of the new dead, so your conjuring is gonna be a little less than impressive."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that you're gonna have to start small." Beej stared over at the gathered breathers living in Jimmy's old digs and smirked. "Fortunately, creepy-crawlies usually send the mortals running."

Two frustrating hours later, Jimmy finally managed to conjure a tiny frog. It was kinda creepy-looking, Beej thought to himself. Its eyes were huge, almost the same size as the rest of its head. Its body was a bright red. Beej would have preferred to conjure the creature in his signature black and white stripes, but this was Jimmy's attempt, not his own.

"Okay, send it along to Sloane." The dark-haired mechanic was the only person left awake in the house. Beej could see that she was poring over financial documents from a shop matching the name on her torn jumpsuit.

The frog hopped obligingly when Jimmy shooed it toward her, hopping to sit at Sloane's feet and letting out a tiny peep. Sloan frowned and glanced around; it wasn't until the second croak that she zeroed in one the frog. Beej waited, ready to hear the delicious sounds of a scream, but no such luck. Sloane made eye contact with the frog for one moment before cooing, "Hello, you tiny baby!"

The frog peeped up at her again and she made a soft sound back. "I know, sweetheart, I know. You don't want to be in this house, do you? Hang on, let me help you."

Sloane began to stand and Beej leaned over to Jimmy. "You didn't happen to make that critter poisonous, did you?"

"I didn't know that was a thing I can do," Jimmy whispered back, befuddled. Beej sighed.

Sloane returned with a piece of junk mail and scooped the frog up onto it. "Now, don't go hopping all over the place! We'll be outside in just a minute."

True to her word, Sloane escorted the tiny frog outside and placed it in a nearby garden. "You're lucky it's still so warm out here," she informed the frog, meeting its bulbous black eyes as it croaked again. "Have a good night, little baby!"

And inside again, she went. Jimmy glanced helplessly at Beej, clearly at a loss about what to do. Beej sighed. "This is gonna take some thought."

Fortunately, he was as quick a thinker as always and soon shot Jimmy a wide grin. "Okay, kid, listen up. Lesson two: how to touch the living…"

* * *

Sloane groaned slightly as she walked from the bathroom to the kitchen. It had been a long day at work and, yet again, she had been the only one toiling while the others stood around and shot the breeze. She was tired of coming home caked in grease and dried sweat for only a few dollars more than it would take to pay her bills. Today in particular, she had hissed her way through a shower as the hot water ran painfully into the ever-present gouges on her knuckles and several new ones on her knees and elbows.

As she entered the kitchen, Sloane stumbled so badly that she nearly fell. As she straightened with a vile curse, she caught Harper's look of concern. "Are you okay, Sloane? You've been tripping a lot lately."

"I know, I'm not sure what's going on," she mumbled grumpily.

"Have you been drinking enough water? I really don't think you take care of yourself."

Before Harper could launch into the familiar lecture, Sloane cut her off with a smile. "I'll work on it, Harp. But it all started pretty suddenly. Maybe Skip has learned how to push people."

"Aww, Skip!" Harper said excitedly. "He must be growing up. I'm so proud!"

"I don't know if ghosts can really grow, but okay," Sloane agreed. She spooned up a heaping bowl of stir-fry and rice, filled a glass with water, and retreated to her well-worn spot on the couch. She and Harper ate in comfortable silence, the television playing softly in the background and their occasional chuckles the only sound in the quiet room.

Long after Sloane had set her empty bowl aside and begun dozing on the couch, a slight movement caught her attention. A spider, roughly the size of a quarter, dangled down from the ceiling. As it hung directly in front of her face, Sloane was treated to a close-up view of its slow rotation as it spun silk with its forelegs.

Moving slowly, then all at once, she cracked her hands together and the spider was gone. The noise attracted Harper's attention, though, and she turned with an inquisitive brow raised. "Spider," Sloane explained, struggling to her feet. "I got it."

"Well, I had already guessed you weren't breaking out into spontaneous applause," Harper answered dryly. Sloane smiled as she rinsed spider bits off her hands in the rust-spotted sink.

"Spontaneous applause? Does someone need some spontaneous applause?" Milo - the only member of the household capable of opening the door without a ten-minute struggle - stepped inside, the theatrical makeup from hosting a ghost tour giving him an odd appearance. The impression grew stranger as he began clapping wildly. "Yayyy! Guys, we did it!"

Sloane began clapping as well, water spraying from her still-dripping hands. Fine droplets hit Milo's face and he winced. "Ew, what is that?"

"That's not very ghostly," Sloane pointed out.

"Yeah, well, even ghosts should be concerned about whatever's on your hands."

"It was water, you baby! I just finished washing my hands."

"Children," Harper reprimanded mock-sternly from her seat across the room.

"He started it," Sloane said sullenly as Milo said the same about her.

"Go wash up, o tormented spirit," Harper told him. "Dinner's been ready forever and I promise that food poisoning would be worse than whatever Sloane has on her hands."

* * *

"I don't think this is working," Jimmy admitted glumly.

"No shit," Beej replied bluntly. "Sloane's hard to scare, I'll give ya that. She works so much, she's never around. She does care about the others, though. Maybe our way in is just to scare them so badly that _they_ really wanna leave. Seems like she'd do just about anything to keep them happy."

"That might be better," he agreed. "What are we going to do to them?"

"The same stuff we've been doing to Sloane," Beej explained with a shrug. "Just with more of an effect."

Harper was the first to line up for a good scare. She had wandered into the living room to get a drink of water in the middle of the night. Beej elbowed Jimmy solidly to wake him up - not that he was sleeping, of course, but many of the new dead still liked to close their eyes at night.

Jimmy sat up, opening his eyes fully to give Beej a bewildered look. He jerked his chin toward the pretty blonde in the kitchen. "When she comes back out, give the tv a bit of juice."

"I don't think I'm strong enough for that," he hedged.

"Look at the time, kid. Three a.m." Jimmy didn't seem to understand and Beej sighed. Had the kid even finished reading _The Handbook for the Recently Deceased_ before summoning him? Seriously? "There's a reason mortals talk so much about the 'witching hour'. At three in the morning, whatever time zone you're in, you're able to push through into the living world easier. You'll get through, trust me."

Beej had to give it to the kid: he was a natural when it came to dramatics. The moment Harper's foot touched the floor of the living room, the television flickered to life, set to a channel of static. A bit derivative, Beej admitted, but it got the point across nicely if he was to go by the wideness of Harper's eyes.

She approached the television set slowly and Beej had to stifle a snicker at the matching looks of concentration on Harper and Jimmy's faces. When Harper was only a few feet in front of the television, a shadow roughly resembling Jimmy stuttered onto the screen. It was only a hint of an image, but Harper hadn't missed it, if he was to guess by the way she stopped breathing and the sudden pounding of her heartbeat.

_Ya never really notice how loud a heartbeat is until you don't have one of your own…_

"Haaaaarrrrrrpeeeeeerrrrrr…" Jimmy groaned through the television. It came out as a rough whisper, but the mortal girl obviously heard it. She finally sucked in a breath only to waste it all in a piercing scream.

Milo and Sloane appeared in seconds, both clearly startled from sleep by the noise. Their appearance pulled Harper's gaze from the television - lucky, since the scream had startled Jimmy so badly that he had stopped juicing the screen the moment it happened.

"What happened?" Milo asked frantically, pulling a shaking Harper into his wiry arms as Sloane stood in front of them, surveying the room with a hammer raised as though she was going to hit someone or throw it, depending on what she saw.

"Th- The tv… It came on and I saw a face and it said my _name_ and I- I just…" Harper trailed off, burying her face against Milo's chest once more.

Sloane lowered the hammer and walked over to the television set. "It's not on now. Are you sure you saw something? Sometimes when I take Nyquil, I have super weird dreams-"

"It was real!" Harper said, beginning to cry. Milo rubbed her back comfortingly and Sloane came back to stand with the pair.

"Hey, I believe you. Maybe it was Skip and he wanted to say "hi"," she suggested with a grin.

"It's not funny!" the blonde girl snapped, though she was beginning to smile a bit even through the tears.

Sloane raised her hands innocently. "Never said it was! Maybe Skip just sucks at communication. Want me to smash the tv to pieces?" she asked, brandishing the hammer.

"Don't you dare!" Harper gasped. "We can't afford a new one!"

"Well, no, but I've always wanted to destroy a large electronic device."

Milo perked up. "Me, too! Promise you'll let me smash the screen first."

"That's the best part, you cretin! I have automatic dibs as the one who suggested it."

"No one is smashing the tv," Harper reprimanded tiredly. "Maybe I just imagined it or something. Maybe the screen caught a reflection from a car driving past outside."

"Are you sure?" Milo asked, eyeing Sloane's hammer.

"Yes! Leave the tv alone."

"Fine," Sloane and Milo sighed together.

Sloane rested a hand on Harper's arm. "Wanna sleep in my room tonight? I have to get up in a few hours to head to the shop, but you'll have company until then."

"Yeah, and even a ghost would get lost in that labyrinth she calls a room," Milo pointed out with a grin.

"Harper, move. I need to strategically drop my hammer," Sloane threatened, glaring down at Milo's bare toes.

Milo gasped and pulled his foot back. "No, please! Your room is spotless, a testament to cleanliness! I just said that because… I was jealous!"

Harper rolled her eyes. "I would love to stay with you tonight, Sloane. Thanks. Goodnight, Milo."

She retreated into Sloane's bedroom. Milo grinned and shot Sloane a wink before returning to his own room. Sloane stayed behind to study the television set. Beej didn't miss how her grip tightened on the hammer as she lifted it as though testing its weight. In the end, however, she joined Harper in the room without another word.

"Well, that was a success…" Beej said, trailing off as he saw the look of utter guilt flash across Jimmy's face. "What's your deal?"

"I never- I didn't think I would feel so _bad_. I really scared her."

"Uh, yeah. That was the point."

"But you make this look like fun. It's not fun at all! She _cried._"

"You're the one who was bragging about how you could make her cry when we first met."

Jimmy looked deeply uncomfortable. "I know, but… Maybe I don't want to do this after all."

"Are you serious, kid? You wanna throw away all the work you've done? These are the people who scared away your cat. It would still be here if they were gone. Are you gonna change your mind about everything because one breather cried a little bit?"

"I just don't see how that was a success at all. Harper calmed down. She's sound asleep right now."

"I'll tell you how we know it worked: Sloane. She's starting to think about all of this. We planted the seed tonight: what if Harper would be happier living somewhere else? Trust me, what you did is the first step down the road."

The next day offered another glorious opportunity for scares. Sloane - true to her word - had left the house at roughly six a.m. - and Harper had left around nine. Milo was alone, seemingly-engrossed in a game he was playing on his computer. He was in his own little world… for now.

"Lesson three: it's always easier to manipulate the image of someone who has a reflection than it is to make your own."

Jimmy nodded, but seemed confused. "How does that help me?"

"Because you can do things like mess with Milo's reflection. It's subtle, but it makes mortals _fah-reak out_ when they finally notice."

"Okay, how does it work?"

Beej took a deep breath. "Well…"

* * *

Engrossed in his fifth straight hour of gameplay, Milo didn't notice anything right away. If anyone had asked him, he hadn't given much thought to the events of the early hours of the morning. However, the memory lingered in the back of his mind. He had 'accidentally' unplugged the television set only a few minutes after Harper had left the house. She had asked if he wanted to come drop her off, but he had declined. It wasn't as if that would have been a strange occurrence - he often liked to take a few extra minutes with her and she would take the car home before coming back to pick him up - but he didn't want to let himself get carried away.

Milo knew he had a tendency to go overboard, especially since he was more than a little superstitious.

However, he had remained at home by himself and had few regrets so far. Without the girls around, he could play his games without headphones or fear of judgment. Milo maneuvered expertly through a complicated battle sequence and the screen went black, loading a scene filled with dialogue, and he caught a split-second image of his reflection in the monitor.

Except it wasn't him. Not really.

It looked like his face, but his eyes were gone. In their place were black streaks stretching over his eye sockets, matching the gaping hole that was his mouth. The darkness was in stark contrast to the ghostly white skin of the rest of his face. It looked like the face was screaming and it gave him a sense of stomach-clenching terror even as the game flipped over to a video segment filled with meaningless dialogue.

The warped reflection was gone with the reappearance of the game's brightly-lit pixels, but it was too late. Milo's body, acting on sheer instinct, pressed back against the seat and jerked his hands back toward his chest. The wireless mouse dropped from his hand and the clatter was enough of a shock that he stood and began backing away from the computer.

On the screen, several characters spoke vapidly about an upcoming market event in their town, but Milo paid no attention. Instead, he turned enough so that he could study the room without turning his back to the computer. The face he had seen hovered in his mind and he couldn't prevent a fine tremble from coming over his limbs. He was superstitious, sure, but that didn't mean there wasn't actually something wrong with this house.

Though he would be several hours early for the first ghost tour of the evening - a game which now seemed a lot less amusing - Milo decided to go to work. Milo left the house soon after, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder before closing the door with a slam.

Behind him, the distinct sound of two men laughing echoed through the house.

* * *

Author's Note \- Thanks for reading and I'll gladly take any suggestions, comments, or criticism you have to offer! Keep in mind, however, that this story is already mostly written, so suggested changes may not be made. On the plus side, the whole thing should be posted before Halloween!


	2. Chapter Two

**The Ghost with the Most**

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own the rights to_ Beetlejuice_ or any related titles, characters, plots, settings, etc. These rights are the sole property of their legal owners. I own only the original characters and elements of this story, the writing and publishing of which earn me no money.

* * *

Chapter Two

"Hello?" Sloane called as she stepped through the door. She was home late, far later than she had intended to be. The mechanic's shop was open until eight, but she had remained behind to help the owner with the ever-increasing mound of paperwork on his desk. It was shortly after eleven now. Harper should have been home hours ago and even Milo should have beat her home by nearly an hour since his ghost tours ended early on weeknights.

And yet, the house seemed completely empty. Sloane flicked on some lights and wandered around a bit, but didn't see a soul.

A pounding sounded from the door and she whipped around, but chuckled a bit as she walked to answer it. "I'm getting as paranoid as they are."

She opened the door and Harper and Milo stumbled in immediately. "Oh, it's you. Where were you guys?"

"We didn't want to be home before you," Milo panted out.

Harper, leaning against a wall, nodded breathlessly. "Had to sprint from the car."

"Uh, why?"

"The tv-"

"My computer-"

"-and then there were _centipedes_-"

"-keep seeing things in mirrors-"

"-every time I turn around, noises come from behind me-"

"-swear I keep hearing _screaming_-"

"You guys think you have it bad?" Sloane interrupted glumly. "I got called 'sir' today. Even after the guy shook my hand. I think working in the shop is giving me man hands."

"Sloane, this is serious!" Milo berated.

"I know! There isn't enough lotion in the world," she sighed, staring morosely at her hands. No one was amused and she frowned. "Listen, guys. I know there's been some weird stuff happening around here, but I promise, it's nothing."

"But the _tv_-"

"_Mirrors_, Sloane-"

"Nothing we can't handle," she clarified. "If it'll make you guys feel better, we can do the whole bit. We'll get sage or whatever, ask a priest to come out here, buy a couple of crosses and start reading verses from the Bible out loud in every room. Whatever you guys want to do."

No one responded, but Harper's gaze dropped to the floor and Milo's cheeks reddened.

"We don't want to be dramatic," Harper said. "I know it sounds crazy, but I keep hearing things."

"And I'm really freaked out," Milo admitted. "I keep seeing this… demonic face, every time I'm near anything reflective."

"Okay, you guys don't work until late tomorrow, right?" Nods. "How about we have a campout in the living room, then? I've got a sleeping bag, and we have the two couches for you guys. We'll just chill out here, watch movies, and before we go to sleep, I'll cover the tv. No reflections and if anything weird happens, we'll just wake each other up. How about it?"

"Sounds like fun," Milo admitted with a shrug.

"Cool! I'm going to go shower. You guys good to start dinner while I do?"

"We can do that," Harper assured her. "What are we having?"

"Budget food."

"Hot dogs and mac and cheese?" Harper asked with a laugh.

"Yep, sounds about right," Sloane confirmed. "Okay, I'll be back out in a few minutes."

* * *

"Now they're spending more time together." Jimmy adjusted the glasses to sit better on the bridge of his nose. "Is that good or bad for us?"

"It's good," Beej affirmed. "Very good. Means that unscareable Sloane is beginning to take us more seriously. Now, we just have to give her a good reason to believe that there's something in this house that wants her out."

"I know exactly what to do!" Jimmy said excitedly.

"That's the spirit, kid!" Beej encouraged, laughing a bit at his own joke as he turned to peer out of the mirror. Netherworld tricks meant that he could only really see the things that were exactly in front of the mirror and the mirror didn't directly face the shower.

Still, there were worse ways to spend five minutes of his afterlife than watching the reasonably-pretty brunette strip out of a greasy mechanic's jumpsuit. _Solid entry for _Juice'd: The Unofficial Pin-Up Calendar. _I'd even give her one of the decent months. September, maybe. Even October if she'd wear a better bra. Or no bra. _

He was pulled from his internal appreciative chuckle by Jimmy stepping back and proudly saying, "That'll do it!"

"Did ya remember to write backward so she sees it the right way?"

"Yeah!"

"Is your handwriting good? Not too sloppy but not too neat?"

"I… I think so?"

"There's that famous confidence from Jimmy the up-and-coming poltergeist," Beej said with a slap to Jimmy's shoulder.

"Poltergeist? That's what you're teaching me to be?"

"Well… yeah. What did you think we were doing here? Normal ghosts put all their energy and effort into making the breathers in their homes see 'em. Then they 'live together in peace' or whatever."

"Poltergeist…" Jimmy drew out. Eventually, he added, "I like it."

Beej studied him carefully. Jimmy looked the same on the outside: a scrawny, over-particular, hipster-esque nerd. However, there was an odd light in his eyes that made Beej believe that Jimmy was indeed enjoying this new role - maybe even a little much. "I can tell."

"Here she comes!"

Beej turned back toward the mirror, though he kept a careful eye on Jimmy in his peripheral vision. Sloane did step up to the mirror a moment later, body concealed by a carefully-wrapped towel. She leaned toward the mirror, frowning at what she saw. For the first time, Beej read Jimmy's message as well.

"You'll scream for me?"

Jimmy nodded. "What do you think? Scary, right?"

"Definitely… It's just kinda…"

On the other side of the mirror, Sloane snorted. "Kinky."

"Yeah, that," Beej agreed, jerking a thumb in her direction.

Sloane swiped her hand against the glass, erasing the words, but leaving enough fog that they couldn't see much as she quickly dressed and combed her hair. As she departed the bathroom, they could hear her say casually, "I don't care how weird you guys want to get, just don't do anything in our bathroom, okay? I still have to use it."

"I'm never going to get this right, am I?" Jimmy asked sadly.

* * *

"So someone really called you 'sir' today?" Milo asked from his spot by the stove.

Sloane lifted a brow in his direction, recognizing the attempt at distraction for what it was, but she had been teasing her roommates about their chemistry for so long that it wouldn't hurt to let it go - for now. "Yeah, one customer. I get it, a bit. I have to wear my hair up and everyone looks alike in those baggy jumpsuits. But he could have at least rethought it after he shook my hand. I know I have to keep my nails short for work, but my hands would be ridiculously small for a guy!"

Harper, doing damage control by cleaning up the dishes dirtied by Milo's cooking, nodded in commiseration. "I know exactly what you mean! I have to keep my nails short for the kitchens and I have to wash them so many times a day… I feel like my hands are just one giant callus!"

"At least you guys get to work inside," Milo pointed out, his tone long-suffering.

Sloane and Harper exchanged glances. "Are you serious?" Sloane finally asked. "You work outside… at _night_. When there's no sun."

"And you just walk around talking to people in a spooky voice," Harper pitched in. "You aren't working in a brutally hot kitchen all day, dealing with picky customers and a demanding boss."

"Or in a garage filled with running engines and fifteen sweaty dudes," Sloane agreed.

"Milo, you have the cushiest job of any of us!" Harper laughed.

For a moment, Milo looked like he was getting ready to be offended, but chuckled as he admitted, "You're right, I really do! That settles it, you guys should come work with me."

"Only if you keep an eye out for a nice cardboard box for us to live in," Sloane countered.

"Ooh, we should attach a couple of extra boxes so we each get our own bathroom!" Harper proposed.

"Nah, we would need to set up next to someplace with a public restroom," Sloane disagreed. "Otherwise, we would need truly spectacular aim and some of us can't stand that kind of pressure…"

"Shut up!" Milo finally burst out, scarcely able to speak from laughing. "I don't make that little money, guys."

Harper scoffed while Sloane blew a raspberry.

"Hey, want to watch a movie before we go to sleep?" Sloane asked abruptly.

"If you're going to suggest a horror movie, that is way too soon," Harper said warningly, but started snickering even as she said it.

"I wasn't, actually. I mean, it is the right season for it, but I don't think anyone is in the mood right now."

"How about _Spaceballs_?" Milo asked, looking defensive as both girls groaned. "What? It's my favorite movie! I haven't seen it in forever! Besides, when the president's head is put back on backwards? That's the real horror."

"Okay, I guess it _has_ been a while since you've made us watch it," Harper admitted with a sigh. "Go ahead, start it up."

* * *

"It's been almost ten days," Jimmy complained loudly. "I don't think we're any closer to getting them out of here."

Beej shrugged. "Sometimes it takes a while to scare the breathers out."

Even as he pretended to be unaffected, Beej felt his own surge of frustration. Sure, maybe it took a while for other poltergeists to scare people, but he had always had a knack for it. It was irritating that these morons were proving to be his downfall, especially in front of some new-dead hipster ghost who was watching to see when things went wrong.

As if to prove his point, Jimmy huffed impatiently. "This is ridiculous! They're only three people who have only been alive for a fraction of the time you have! Why can't we manage to scare them out of here?"

The only thing that kept Beej from tearing Jimmy's head from his spectral body was that he used 'we' in his last question. "Some breathers take longer than others to get scared. Plus, it doesn't help that they're so close. Every time I think we have one of them pegged, they manage to calm each other down."

That much was unfortunately true. The three had adapted to living in a real-life haunted house with ease. The television was always on, muted only when they went to bed. The constantly-running images on the screen had to have been hell on their electric bill, but it also made it impossible for the set to be turned on to scare any late-night wanderers. The mirrors had all been covered with sheets or paper, and no one made eye contact with their reflected self in any shiny surfaces. Between the television and the music each played, no sounds made by Beej or Jimmy could be heard and Jimmy's spiders and frogs were considered natural nuisances of the rapidly-cooling weather.

In short, they were running out of options if they wanted the breathers out anytime soon.

Even as they watched, Sloane and Harper stepped through the door together - not because either one was scared to be home by themselves, but because their schedules had happened to coincide and they drove into town together.

"Want me to make dinner while you shower?" Harper asked, though why she was checking something so routine for the household, Beej couldn't guess.

Sloane shook her head as she leaned against the kitchen counter. "No, thanks. Make whatever you want for yourself and Milo, but I'm exhausted. I'm not hungry and I think I'm just going to sleep in my own filth tonight."

Even as Harper launched into a speech about the importance of eating dinner, Beej let out a loud, appreciative laugh. "If ya ever wanna sleep in someone else's filth, babe, just say the word. I'm always up for a good time, if ya know what I mean."

Sloane's smile grew oddly tight and she cut Harper's speech off. "Okay, okay. I changed my mind. I'll go shower."

"And eat dinner," Harper insisted.

"And eat dinner," Sloane repeated with a defeated sigh before disappearing into the bathroom.

Abruptly, Beej realized that Jimmy was staring at him and he shot the young ghost a look. "What's up, Jimmy-boy?"

"Do you even want to help me?"

Beej frowned. "Help you? What, get rid of these breathers? Hell, yes!"

"Are you sure? Because you seem pretty happy hanging around with Sloane." Jimmy's tone was moody and Beej was one breath away from mocking him, but something about the rage he had seen hidden in Jimmy's eyes lately warned that doing so could be a bad idea.

"Are ya kidding me? You're my paying customer! Customer comes first, ya know. 'Sides, if I was gonna be tempted by any breather, it wouldn't be some workaholic hard-ass. Not my type."

"Whatever you say, man," Jimmy scowled, stomping soundlessly over to where Harper was starting to cook dinner.

Several minutes later, Sloane had stepped out of the steam-filled bathroom and grabbed a chipped plate for food. "Looks good," she said appreciatively, her previous statement about not being hungry obviously forgotten.

"Thanks!" Harper called back from her spot on the couch. "Chicken alfredo is kind of my specialty."

"And here I thought Milo was the cook of the house," Sloane mused, stepping toward the couch.

The rest looked like slow-motion to Beej. Jimmy, clearly losing his temper, gave her a rough shove as she passed. Sloane, now off-balance, slammed into the edge of the counter and dropped her plate on the floor. The plate, already chipped beyond repair, shattered into countless pieces - though the pasta on the plate kept the shards somewhat contained.

Beej held back a frown as Jimmy shot him a celebratory glance. What Jimmy had done was perfectly acceptable in the poltergeist world, if not a little on the tame side. Why, then, did Beej feel like he needed to berate the new ghost?

"Luckily for both of us, I have no concept of how much pasta to make, so you can have another full plate. We won't even miss one portion." Harper grinned at Sloane from where both girls were working to clean the mess off the floor. "It was probably just Skip acting up again."

"Yeah, well, Skip is starting to piss me off," Sloane growled as she deposited the mess of broken plate chunks and dirty pasta into the kitchen trash can. With a glower chillingly pointed toward Jimmy, she added, "Maybe it's time for an exorcism after all."

When Beej finally glanced over at Jimmy, he found that the young ghost was paler than normal. He didn't regain his color until Sloane was in her room for the night.

They were alone early the next afternoon when Jimmy finally revealed what he had been mulling over the whole time.

"I changed my mind," he announced without preamble. "I want you to kill Sloane."

Beej snorted disbelievingly. "Sorry, kid. I can't do that."

"Why not?!"

"Well, let's see… I'm under contract as a teacher, which limits my awesome powers toward breathers. I'm not here as a bio-exorcist-"

"Then teach me," Jimmy interrupted desperately.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! That's a no-go. Teaching another ghost to kill breathers is different than killing 'em myself. Much higher fine, one even I can't get away with. Besides, I can't change contracts in the middle of a job, not until the first one is complete."

Jimmy seemed unconvinced. "You want to know what I think?"

"Not really."

"I think you're getting attached to Sloane and you don't _want_ to help me clear this house!"

"Now you're doubting my word as a businessman?" Beej was actually growing offended - not an easy thing to do - but he wouldn't deny the truth. "I think she's funny, but that's it. Like I told ya last night, you're paying me to do this job. That's my priority."

"I didn't want to do this, but I think it's time we set limits on the contract," Jimmy threatened. "If you can't help me get them out of here in the next three days, I'm breaking our deal and you won't get a thing from me!"

Beej laughed at him. "We have a Netherworld contract. I'll get what you promised when the job is done or when you break the deal. That's how our contracts work."

"Fuck your contract!" Jimmy shouted.

"Watch your damn mouth, Jimbo, or I'll make it disappear-" Even as Beej made the threat, Jimmy disappeared completely. To cover himself from anyone who might be watching, Beej looked around with his hands raised in innocence. "I had nothin' to do with that!"

* * *

Author's Note \- Sorry this chapter is so short. I wrote this story as a continuous whole and not really in chapter format, so the chapter lengths vary pretty wildly. Thanks for reading! Expect the next chapter in a day or so.


	3. Chapter Three

**The Ghost with the Most**

_Disclaimer: _I do not own the rights to _Beetlejuice _or any related titles, plots, characters, settings, etc. These rights belong to their legal owners. I own only the original elements of this story, the writing and publishing of which earn me no money.

* * *

Chapter Three

Nearly eight hours had passed and Jimmy still hadn't reappeared. The young ghost had royally pissed Beej off, but there weren't many places tethered ghosts could disappear to and even he wouldn't want to curse some poor sap to spend this long on Saturn with the sandworms.

Despite that worry, Beej found himself pleasantly distracted by Sloane, who was the only resident home. She was taking care of the mound of dishes piled in the sink and listening to music. The frenetic changes in genre and year of release were enough to keep Beej interested, and a good number of the songs were strange enough to satisfy even his odd tastes.

A soft _pop!_ and a subtle waft of air warned Beej that Jimmy had returned. "Hey, kid, welcome back. I think I've come up with some ways to really get them outta here-"

A deep chortle echoed through the room and Beej felt his spine stiffen. No, surely even Jimmy hadn't been so stupid…

Even as he hoped it wouldn't be true, Beej turned around and tipped his head back to make eye contact with the seven foot-tall demon grinning wickedly down at him. "Cryptus," he greeted darkly.

Cryptus inclined his horned head, eyes coldly triumphant as he returned, "Beetlejuice."

Beej winced at the sound of his name coming from the demon's mouth, but hid the reaction by glancing over at Jimmy, who hovered sheepishly behind the wall of muscle he had hired. "'Sup, Jimmy-boy? Why'd ya go and do something like this, huh?"

Jimmy's eyes hardened behind his glasses and he took a step out from behind Cryptus. "You couldn't do what I hired you to do, so I got someone better."

"Better? You hired a maniac! Demons have no boundaries, didn't I tell you? I thought ya didn't want to become a real poltergeist and kill all the humans, but that's what you've done. Ya know that, right?"

"You said demons were the only thing you're afraid of," Jimmy answered, almost making Beej wince again. "Maybe Cryptus here will actually get these people out of my house. You can leave now, Beetlejuice."

"I can't leave, you idiot!" Beej replied, voice raised in his frustration. "I'm as tethered to this house as you are, with that damned Netherworld contract!"

"Do not worry, human," Cryptus growled to Beej with a fang-bearing smirk. "I will kill those living in this household and we will both fulfill our contracts. Though your spoils will come to me as the one who completed the job. Now, which human should die first?"

Jimmy pointed over to Sloane, still washing dishes. At some point, she had turned off the music and a furrow appeared between her eyebrows. Cryptus strode over to her place at the sink and slammed his fist into the counter without preamble. Carefully-balanced dishes scattered in every direction, making Sloane jump. It saved her life.

The percussion from Cryptus's fist had knocked a sharp-looking knife blade-first into the soapy water. Sloane made a soft sound of pain and Beej watched, horrified, as the water turned pink, darkening more toward red with every second that passed.

She finally pulled her hand from the water, revealing a deep cut across her upper palm, only inches from her wrist. Only Sloane's reflexive recoil had prevented the cut from slicing the delicate veins. Non-fatal as it was, the cut was bleeding freely and even Beej had to wince at the brutality of it. Sloane whipped a dish towel from the counter beside her and wrapped it around her hand, jaw clenched as she pressed the material into the cut.

"Shit, Sloane," Beej whispered, and felt an oddly overwhelming sense of relief as the door opened.

"Hey, Sloane! How was- What happened?!" Harper's voice was horrified as she rushed over to the sink.

"I got cut," Sloane explained shortly, voice tight. "Knife in the sink. Need stitches."

Harper snatched her keys up from where she had dropped them on the counter. "Come on. We'll go to the emergency room."

As Jimmy and Cryptus jeered with their triumph over Sloane, Beej quietly disappeared from sight.

* * *

"What am I gonna do?"

Sloane cracked open an eye to study her empty room, letting it drift closed once more a moment later.

"He hired a demon. A fucking demon!"

Her hand hurt even though the pain medication. The stitches flat-out _throbbed_ and it felt like a blowtorch was being held against her skin.

"There's nothing I can do. Maybe I should just let them kill these breathers and I'll go along my merry way."

Seriously? She just wanted to sleep.

"I don't owe them anything."

Sloane let out an irritable sigh and flipped over to face the wall. A small smile curved her lips as she heard nothing more from the room.

"Sheesh, babe. What's your problem?"

"You!" she snapped, turning over to stare into the room. "You're my problem! Please shut up. It's been a long day."

"Wait, stop, hold up. You can see me?"

"No, just hear. And I wish I couldn't do that!"

"Okay, that's just rude." Sloane could hear that the voice was offended.

"I would apologize, but did you miss the part where I got stabbed?" There really was no reason she should be so calm about this other than that she had been hearing this voice - and a few others - off and on at various volumes for the better part of a week. The voices seemed to refer to each other as ghosts, but Sloane had her doubts. If it was schizophrenia, maybe the voices could be reasoned with to shut up?

"No, I was there for that."

Was it her imagination or did the voice sound apologetic now?

"Did you do it?"

"What? No! It was this demon guy. He's a real tool."

"Mmm," she hummed in agreement. "And here one would expect demons to be much more reasonable."

There was silence from the room at large after that. Sloane was drifting… floating… and brought abruptly back to wakefulness when the voice asked, "Why are you not afraid?"

"'M terrified," Sloane said patronizingly. "You're very scary."

"You're damn right I am," it scoffed. "Why aren't you moving out if you know you live in a genuine haunted house?"

Sensing she wasn't going to get to sleep anytime soon, Sloane flipped over and sighed. "Because all of it was easy to ignore. Yeah, you're good at jump scares and little weird touches, but there was nothing life-threatening."

"Did you miss the part when your wrist almost got slit?"

Was the voice mocking her? Figures, even the voices in her head would have an attitude. "No, I remember. What, did you finally get sick of trying?"

"That wasn't me!" the voice claimed. "That was the new guy Jimmy hired."

"Who is Jimmy, again?" Sloane asked with a yawn.

"The ghost who haunts this place. He hired me."

"I thought he hired Jimmy?"

"No, the ghost _is_ Jimmy!" The voice gave an irritable sigh. "Jimmy is a ghost stuck here. You guys call him Skip. Jimmy hired me to teach him to get rid of you all, but it wasn't working, so he hired a demon named Cryptus."

"Skip is a joke," she murmured. "There's no ghost who lives here."

"Ghosts don't live anywhere."

"Ha, ha," Sloane fake laughed. "So clever."

There was silence for a little longer, enough that Sloane started getting swept toward sleep again. "You know, Cryptus isn't scared to hurt breathers."

"Mmm-hmm."

"He could hurt one of you guys. Maybe even kill you."

"Yeah."

"Why don't you just leave?" the voice asked, frustration apparent.

"Because this place is cheap. We're barely able to make ends meet as it is and every time we build up enough money to get a real house, the tourist season ends and Milo and Harper are out of work."

"They're using you, babe."

"I'm not your babe and no they aren't. I may work more than them, but Milo cooks so I have a warm meal to come home to. Harper keeps everything clean so I don't have to worry about. It's a team effort here and the system works."

"Whatever ya say, babe. But you know I could just give you some money?"

"Ghosts don't have money."

"No, but I can make some."

Maybe it was the medication, maybe it was her weariness, but Sloane inanely said the only thing she could think of at that, "That cannot be good for the economy. You're putting more bills into circulation than the U.S. Treasury has gold to back it up."

There was another silence, this one seeming more stunned than anything. With a bit of a laugh, the voice said, "Well, shit, babe. How much money are ya gonna need for a house?"

"Technically, none."

"C'mon, ya know we gotta get ya outta this house. Just say my name three times and we'll be in business! Now, we just have to figure out how to tell you my name. I can't say it out loud."

"I already know your name," Sloane told him matter-of-factly.

"Normally, we play charades, but ya can't see me- Wait, you know my name? How?"

"You guys said it like, eight times earlier," she replied patiently.

"Then say it already! I'll getcha some cash and we can get this show on the road." The voice was thrumming with tension, though it seemed at least partially due to excitement.

"No, thanks," Sloane refused, letting her eyes drift closed once more.

"Why the hell not?" the voice asked aggressively.

"Because I'm not going to be bullied by an auditory hallucination brought on by medication…" she thought back to how she had heard the voices over the past week, growing louder by the day. "Or stress or whatever."

A boisterous laugh sounded through the room. "Oh, I can_not_ believe this! You really think you made me up?"

"Yep. Now if I could just figure out how to get you to shut up so I can sleep…"

"Sloane," the voice entreated, sounding much closer than before. "I don't think ya understand. You and everyone in this house is in danger. What happened to you today is just the beginning."

"You say that, but you also say you were hired to get us out of here. Why should I believe that this isn't just a new tactic?"

"Because I'm not trying to scare you out…" Sloane lifted an eyebrow in the silence and the voice grew frustrated. "Okay, fine. I'm sorta trying to scare you. More like warn you. I'll make trouble and I've scared a few suckers to death, but it's all in good fun. This demon Jimmy's brought here… he'll kill you all and make it slow, painful. He likes to make breathers suffer."

"I'll think about it, okay?" Sloane offered. "Just please, let me sleep. I'll be no good to anyone if I don't get some sleep. I have to work in," she tilted her wrist and heaved a sigh, "four hours."

"Fine. Just keep your psychic ears open."

The room fell utterly silent at that, the only sound being Sloane's weary chuckles at the phrase 'psychic ears'.

* * *

So, the stubborn breather could hear them. Beej supposed that should have made him feel better - after all, he and Jimmy hadn't exactly been trying to be subtle about their plans to terrorize the household and Sloane had gotten constant warnings of what was coming.

Of course, Sloane also thought that Jimmy, Cryptus, and Beej were all figments of her imagination. That was an issue.

Keeping himself carefully out of sight on the plane currently occupied by Jimmy and Cryptus, Beej went back out into the living room. Milo had met Harper and Sloane at the hospital and now all residents of the house were tucked away in their bedrooms, sleeping or well on the way.

"Well, that was successful," Jimmy told Cryptus with a grin. "What's next?"

"I do not concern myself with plans," Cryptus replied simply, even his speaking voice causing a low rattle throughout the ancient house. "We will continue immediately. Never give humans a chance to recover their balance between attacks."

_You idiot!_ Beej wanted to shout at Jimmy. _Can't you hear him? He doesn't see any difference between breathers and the dead. We're all humans to him. Cattle. Disposable._

Jimmy didn't notice, however. "I like it. Whatever you want to do, I trust you."

Cryptus disappeared without warning. A low shriek - nothing made by a human - echoed through the house and he was back.

"What did you do?"

"I tire of this," Cryptus said shortly. "We will kill them all, together. Tonight."

"How?" Jimmy asked, and Beej was gratified to hear a bit of worry mixed with the more readily-apparent curiosity in his voice.

"Humans and their tools… So much can go wrong." Jimmy began to ask further questions, but Cryptus held up a large, claw-tipped hand. "Ask no more. We may yet be surveyed by your failed contract-holder."

_Shit._ Knowing he was working against the clock, Beej began searching through the house from attic to basement. Studying each tool and appliance took time and nearly an hour had passed when he found the problem: the ancient, disrepaired heater in the small basement was turned on and wheezing out foul-scented air through the large gouges carved in its body.

It had been a long time since Beej had to worry about silly things like oxygen, but even he knew the dangers of carbon monoxide. How many public servants working in Juno's office had originally killed themselves by sitting in a garage with a running car?

_Shit, shit, shit!_

Beej appeared upstairs in Sloane's room. "Sloane! Hey, Sloane! You have to get out of here! Get out, _now_!"

There was no response, though he could see her chest rising and falling with her breath. _The medication,_ he realized, hoping that was it rather than her having succumbed to carbon monoxide poisoning.

He moved next door to Milo's room. Beej had told the truth: his powers were indeed locked down since he only held a teaching contract at the moment. But with enough juice, he could reach the living even through the bindings.

Beej took a deep breath, putting every ounce of power he still possessed into his voice. "_MILO!_"

Milo jumped awake in an instant and it was a good thing he had. Beej was drained to the point that he nearly sunk through the floor. He had used so much energy that he was in danger of becoming fully incorporeal.

While Beej struggled against the sudden loss of his strength, Milo sat up and swayed violently from side to side. He groaned, but slid out of bed and made his way unsteadily to Harper's room. Beej followed, equally unsteady.

"Harp? Harp, wake up."

Harper rolled over and frowned. "Milo? Wh- What's happening? Why do I feel so bad? I can't see very well…"

Even as Beej looked on, Harper's eyes began to drift closed again. "Harp! Don't go back to sleep."

"I'm so tired, Milo," Harper mumbled.

"I know, but something's wrong," Milo insisted sharply. "I can't walk in a straight line. We need to get outside, now."

"But, wait. Sloane!" Harper exclaimed, swinging her feet out of the bed and immediately falling down.

"I'll get her, you open the door," Milo ordered and Harper moved to obey.

Beej followed Milo once more in the off chance he would need to assist the breather, but Milo pulled Sloane easily out of the bed. Sloane didn't even stir.

"Milo, help! The door won't open!"

Milo pulled Sloane toward the door and handed Harper his cell phone. "Call 9-1-1," he slurringly told her. "Tell them she won't wake up. I'll get the door."

But he wouldn't. The door wasn't stuck, it was being held closed by Cryptus. Beej flashed into full view and charged at the demon with a weak shout. He didn't make much of an impact against the wall of muscle, but it was enough to knock Cryptus's hand away from the door. Milo wrenched it open and ushered Harper outside before the demon could regain his footing.

Cryptus threw Beej across the room with a growl and turned back to the window, looking out onto the front yard. Beej glanced over his shoulder to see an ancient tree in the front yard _bending_, leaning closer and closer to the ground- the ground where Sloane lay with Milo and Harper seated beside her. If he didn't put a stop to it, Cryptus would kill them all with the weight of the tree's trunk snapping down on top of them.

Trying to conserve energy, Beej wiggled his fingers and a swarm of black and white striped scorpions scuttled their way toward Cryptus. Beej sat back, trying every trick he knew to regain his strength as he waited for the scorpions to distract the demon, but they flocked harmlessly to him like kids chasing a butterfly.

Feeling only a shade better than he had before, Beej conjured up a bear trap. Well, it was shaped like a bear trap, anyway. It had more rows of teeth than a shark, each one filed to wickedly gleaming edges. No trapper would use that to catch animals, not if he wanted to collect more than shreds of fur.

Even as he crossed the room as silently as he could, Beej couldn't help but scoff to himself. _I feel like a fuckin' fool. I should be dressed like a frontier fur trapper. I look ridiculous._ His rant, no matter how misplaced, helped keep him from thinking too hard about what he was about to do and with a loud _snap!_, the bear trap was attached to Cryptus's long tail.

Cryptus roared and the sound was like thunder and the crackle of flames. It was terrifying and Beej hated him for it. Cryptus ripped the trap from his tail and caught Beej across the chest with a deep slash of his claws. Beej staggered back, grasping at the front of his suit - the ectoplasm was already beginning to seep through - and Cryptus turned back to the window.

The moment of distraction had been enough, though. He could tell from the new tension in the demon's shoulders. Milo and Harper must have seen the danger and dragged Sloane further away. Beej used his remaining strength to cloak himself from the eyes of Cryptus and Jimmy, then collapsed against the nearest wall to build strength and heal the deep gashes across his chest. Only minutes later, flashing lights announced the arrival of an ambulance and Beej relaxed. The breathers would be okay and far away from here before Cryptus could work out something even more horrible to do.

* * *

Author's Note \- So, houses in Florida typically don't have basements. Especially ones near the coast. I forgot about that. Ignore it. Suspension of disbelief is a thing, right? Random side-note: When I was really young, I had a neighbor almost die from carbon monoxide poisoning and it's freaked me out ever since. So, take note. You can either cheap out on a heater or a carbon monoxide detector, but not both.

Shout-out to those who have followed or favorited this story. I appreciate you! Thanks for reading, drop a review if you have a moment, and have a great day!


	4. Chapter Four

**The Ghost with the Most**

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own the rights to_ Beetlejuice_ or any related titles, characters, plots, settings, etc. These rights belong only to their legal owners. I own only the original elements of this story, the writing and publishing of which earn me no money.

* * *

Chapter Four

When Sloane woke up, she understood for the first time what 'bleary' felt like. Her eyes were droopy no matter how wide she tried to hold them.

"Sloane! You're awake!"

Sloane winced sharply as Harper's voice sliced neatly through her head. "Yeah," she croaked. "What happened?"

"The heater finally kicked it once and for all," Milo answered from his spot slumped on an uncomfortable-looking armchair in the corner. "It was filling the house with carbon monoxide."

"Oh, shit," Sloane said, smiling gratefully at Harper when she brought over a cup of lukewarm water with a bendy straw placed in it. "But which one of you guys turned on the heater?" Harper and Milo exchanged glances and Sloane frowned. "I'm not mad, I'm just curious."

"We thought you did," Milo said slowly. Her throat still hurt, so Sloane's only response was to shake her head.

There was no time for further debate as a doctor trailed by two nurses bustled into the room. "Hello, Sloane. You're lucky to be alive."

"Thanks," Sloane replied uncomfortably. How was she supposed to respond to something like that?

"We've treated you for exposure to carbon monoxide. You needed nearly an entire D-cylinder oxygen tank." The doctor said it like it was supposed to impress her, but Sloane was beyond being shocked by anything.

"So, am I okay to leave?"

"Well," she hedged, "we would prefer you stay the rest of the night for observation, but we can't force you. As long as you and your friends keep an eye out for any sudden or recurring symptoms, you'll be fine. Come back if you notice anything strange."

"Yes, doctor," Harper agreed politely when the woman cast her a stern glance, apparently deciding Sloane was a hopeless case. Milo appeared to be asleep on the armchair.

"Also, this should go without saying, but don't return to your home tonight. It'll need to be aired out and I would suggest purchasing a carbon monoxide detector before returning. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," Sloane replied crisply, offering a salute cut short by the I.V. in her arm.

The doctor leveled a mild glare in her direction. "I'll send a nurse by with your discharge paperwork."

As soon as she left, Sloane let out a deep groan. Harper was at the bedside in a moment. "Sloane? Are you okay? Do you need me to call the doctor back in?"

"No, please don't! We can't afford it." Sloane let out a bitter laugh. "We were riding a little on the tight side of the budget before, but now… We're really screwed, Harp. Between our hospital bills and the cost of replacing the heater, we're going to be tapped out before we even pay the rent."

"Sloane, we all almost died," Harper reminded her softly.

Sloane held up a hand, shaking her head slightly. "I can't think about it or I'm going to break down. Besides, we lived. Honestly, the finances are more concerning right now."

Harper turned back toward Milo at that, but Sloane caught the look of hurt on her kind face and felt like the world's most heartless beast. "Hey, Harp?" When her friend turned back around, Sloane took a deep breath and admitted, "I'm so scared about what almost happened. I'm glad we're all okay. I don't know what I would do if I lost you guys."

"Says the one we couldn't wake up." Harper's wan smile belied her light-hearted words. "I love you guys. Even if Milo's asleep right now."

"Probably for the best," Sloane pointed out. "He should be fully conscious the first time you tell him that you love him."

Harper gave her a dark stare. "Remind me to hit you when you're not plugged into a bunch of machinery."

* * *

The entirety of the next day was spent sleeping in the cheapest hotel room they could find that didn't look like a worse option than sleeping in the streets. All three were exhausted, though they had managed to go back by the house to open a number of windows and place fans strategically around the interior rooms.

The following day, Harper and Milo went back to work, but when Sloane stated her intentions to do the same, she was lectured by both of her roommates.

"You work in a garage, Sloane," Milo pointed out for the fourth time. "That's basically a larger room filled with carbon monoxide."

"We couldn't wake you up and the doctor said it was only partially due to the medication," Harper said, voice terse. "Your room is just above the heater. You were hit worse than us. You can take an extra day to recover."

"I don't have sick time. I have to get back to work or we're not going to make rent this month."

"We'll figure something out that doesn't include you dying," Milo said, using his firm voice.

Sloane reluctantly conceded their points only a few minutes later. She napped into the early afternoon, but then grew restless in the tiny hotel room. She made calls to their landlord and the company her health insurance was through, then several calls to the bank, but things were looking dire. Rather than sit around depressing herself, Sloane decided to go back to the house and see if she could figure anything out with the heater.

She was cautious when it came to stepping inside and she strained her ears for any out-of-place sound, but there was nothing. The house seemed utterly deserted. It wasn't until she was down in the basement with the heater that she heard something odd.

"What're you doing back, are ya crazy? You almost died last time!"

"I know, Voice. You didn't manage to kill me."

"That wasn't me, babe!" She didn't respond and the voice tried again a moment later. "Sloane, I swear to you, I had nothing to do with that. In fact, I had to fight the other guy off."

"Yeah, the mysterious demon you swear is hanging around here, summoned by the other ghost you also claim is hanging around." Sloane said absently, aiming the flashlight at the old heater. The front looked worn, but still intact. What if something subtle had gone wrong, something hard to find? She didn't know a ton about heating units…

"What are ya planning to do down here?"

Sloane sighed irritably, opening the door on the side of the ancient heater. "I'm trying to fix this! The landlord says he won't fix damages that we obviously did ourselves." Then, mostly to fight the silence that was making her paranoid, she said, "Okay, I'll bite. Why does the ghost here hate us so much?"

"Well, Jimmy-"

"Wait, Jimmy? The guy who lived here last… His name _was_ James. That's a weird thing for me to remember and work into an imaginary conversation."

"So, ya still think ya made me up?"

"No offense, Voice, but you aren't exactly the most likely ghost story to be true."

"Did ya know Jimmy before he- ya know, bit the big one?"

"No, but I feel like I did." Sloane thought about that for a moment, untwisting some wires. "I helped clean this place out after he died. The landlord gave us a discount on the first six months of rent for it."

"How did he die?" the voice asked curiously.

"Drug overdose."

The voice guffawed. "What did he O.D. on, gummy vitamins?"

"Two medicines prescribed by different doctors," Sloane replied sharply. "They had a bad reaction and he passed away. It was a tragedy."

The voice cleared its invisible throat. "Don't waste too much time feeling sorry for him, babe. He hates you."

"Why? Why does he want us out of here so badly?"

"Cause you- uh… You got rid of his cat."

"What cat? The mangy black one that hung around outside?"

"I dunno. Probably."

"We had to get rid of him. Harper is deathly allergic and we couldn't give him a good home." Sloane leaned back on her heels and dragged her forearm across her forehead, staring into the internal wiring of the heater. "I gave him to a guy I work with, one with a nice family."

"That so?" The voice seemed thoroughly disinterested now, but it was strangely cathartic to talk about this.

"Yeah. The kids named him Inky."

"That's a stupid name for a cat."

Sloane shrugged. "They're just kids, Voice. But Inky got all of his shots, never went hungry, and was picked up or petted every day of his life. They loved him."

"And the past tense is becaaaaause..?"

"Inky died several months ago. Old age. The family was devastated."

"Old age? Shit, sweetheart, how long have ya lived here?"

"A little more than two years," Sloane replied absently, poking some wires back into place.

"Can ya actually fix that thing?" the voice asked eventually.

"I doubt it. I can't even tell what's wrong. From what I can see, everything is in the right place and all the wires look like they're in good condition for how old the unit is. I just can't figure out why it isn't working correctly."

"Well, call me into a more powerful form and I'll juice it right up for ya."

"Call you into a more powerful form? How's that happen?" Slaone knew full well that it was a bad idea to interact with her delusions, but it was a rabbit hole that was hard to come back from. She never would have guessed that she had such a good imagination.

"Say my name three times. That's all ya gotta do and you'll be able to see me, I'll be able to interact with you, and I'll be able to juice anything ya need me to. Whattaya say?"

Sloane snorted. "I'm going to have to say no, Voice. Sounds like an extremely bad idea on my part."

"At least stop calling me 'Voice'. I have a name and you know it."

"Yeah, the name you just said could call you into a more powerful form."

"Only if you say the whole thing three times in a row without any other words in the middle."

"You want a nickname?"

"It would be easier, right? Something catchier than 'Voice'."

"How about B?"

"Works for me, I guess." Did the voice sound disgruntled? Did it matter? If all of it was Sloane's imagination anyway...

She sighed. "Well, it's that or Beej."

"I prefer the second one. Good memories, ya know."

"Okay. And - not that I trust the word of an invisible poltergeist - but you promise that it won't make you level up?"

"Promise, babe," he said gleefully.

"Whatever, Beej. Stop calling me babe." Sloane straightened with a bit of difficulty and began to walk around the back of the heating unit in hopes that she would see something out of place.

"What're ya doing now?"

"Trying to see any damage to the outside," she answered, stopping short as she found it. "Wow, that looks like claw marks… Freaking _huge_ claw marks."

"Now do you believe me about the demon? I don't just make things up- Did you feel that?"

Every hair on Sloane's body stood straight up. "Feel what?"

"Power," Beej whispered.

Sloane stood still, attempting to force herself to feel what he was talking about, but there was nothing until an incredibly loud booming sound echoed through the basement, followed shortly by the lights flickering off and the ceiling caving in.

The noise was deafening for what seemed like forever. Timbers cracked and the sound of things falling continued far beyond what Sloane would have guessed, had she ever put thought into being inside the collapse of a building. When everything had finally seemed to settle, the only sound was Beej's voice. "Sloane? Sloane! Speak to me, babe!"

"Stop calling me babe," Sloane ordered shakenly from her spot on the ground. She had been knocked down by whatever had rocked the house down to its very foundations, but it had saved her life. The collapsed ceiling was hanging only about a foot and a half over her head.

"Are ya hurt?"

"Not desperately," she answered.

"Stay right here," Beej ordered. "I'm going to go check out what that was."

"Not like I could go anywhere," Sloane muttered sarcastically. With a few mental calculations, she realized the dire nature of her situation. The ceiling wasn't collapsing any further and she was somewhat safe in the bubble around her, but there was every chance the rubble above her could shift and she would be crushed. Even if nothing moved, she would likely suffocate within the next hour.

Beej's voice came back. "A semi truck veered off the road and hit the house. The whole main floor is collapsed. This is the only untouched pocket. You're a lucky breather."

"Is the truck in the wreckage of the house?"

"Yeah."

Great, so now she had to factor moving the truck out of the way before rescue attempts had a chance to reach her. And that was assuming the truck wasn't going to explode any second. "Did you check that it's not leaking gas?"

"It isn't, I looked."

"Oh, good. I always said I would rather suffocate than burn to death."

"Really?" Beej asked curiously.

Sloane sighed, slumping back against her small section of floor. "No. I never put much effort into ranking deaths. Guess it doesn't matter much now, huh?"

"Don't say that. We're gonna get you outta here."

* * *

Even as Beej watched, Sloane rested her head on her outstretched arm and closed her eyes. "You aren't dying without telling me, are ya? That's just rude."

It was a flat joke, but Beej was gratified to see a slight smile on Sloane's face.

"Beetlejuice." The commanding voice was not one the ghost had heard before and he turned to find it was coming from Cryptus. Far from the demon's deep and harsh-sounding tone, this voice was smooth and cultured, sounding official. "You are being apprehended for crimes against living humans, notably, the ones who reside in this home."

"Cryptus. You're the one who did this? You aren't gonna get them out of here, you're just gonna kill her!"

"Say whatever you desire, human," Cryptus's voice growled in Beej's head. The demon's thin, cracked lips never moved. "She cannot hear you."

"Sloane, do you wish to be rid of the poltergeist Beetlejuice?"

Sloane kicked up her chin as stubbornly as she could in the small space she occupied. "I don't know you and I don't trust you. Get out of here and away from me."

Cryptus snarled and Beej was horrified to hear his own voice emanating from the demon's mouth. "Attagirl, Sloane! Wanna get rid of this demon once and for all?" She gave a weak nod and Cryptus gave a vicious grin. "Okay, we need to summon me to full form, then. Repeat after me."

Sloane obediently murmured the Latin Cryptus fed her, line by line. It was an old-fashioned exorcism, one that would get rid of Beej for all of eternity. With every word she spoke, he grew a little more weak.

He watched as a slight furrow appeared between her brows and she grew slower in repeating Cryptus's words. He had to correct her more than once and Beej shouted, "You'll never get her to exorcise me if she suffocates first! Give her some air!"

"Silence," Cryptus snarled in his mind. "She will live long enough to be rid of you."

Obviously unable to hear their argument, Sloane was still repeating Cryptus's exorcism in her little space of intact basement. "Fuge hinc, turpi pallidi Beetlejuice… Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!"

Beej gasped as a surge of potent power flowed through his semi-corporeal form. Cryptus screamed in fury, but Beej was stronger than him now. The one with the greater foothold in the living world was always stronger, and now, that honor belonged to Beej. As he rode the wave of juice in his veins, Beej gave a menacing cackle and stared down at Cryptus with eyes that had gone black.

With a crook of his finger and a nod of his head, Beej stabilized most of the rubble and shifted a small amount of the rest, creating a staircase to the front yard, away from the collapsed house. "Go, Sloane."

She staggered to her feet and started up the stairs. Beej congratulated himself on adding a set of handrails. Beej abused Cryptus the entirety of the time it took Sloane to reach the surface. When he felt her emerge into the late afternoon sunlight and stumble to her hands and knees on the patchy grass of the lawn, Beej destroyed the staircase and allowed the rubble to tumble downward once more, erasing any signs of manipulation.

There were many reasons Beej hated demons. They were far too powerful, too violent, but also, they were hard to kill. How so? They had to be killed by an arch-demon. Anything else would just be a temporary death followed by an immediate return to the surface or the Netherworld, wherever the demon would prefer to hang out.

"Enjoy this moment, Cryptus," he told the snarling demon. "This is the last time you'll see the surface."

"You are powerless, weak," Cryptus spat out. "I would never have hesitated to kill a human."

"We both know you would have broken free of Jimmy. He's not nearly powerful enough to stop you and you would have tormented the world."

"I still may," the demon threatened, slashing violently at Beej's hands and arms. "I have only to overcome you, a feeble former human, and kill three living humans to gain my freedom."

Beej laughed as he healed the bone-deep gashes in his skin. "Sorry, C. You're going down to the ones who can put a stop to you forever."

Only a thought later, Beej had created a pipeline leading straight down through the earth to hell. Whether hell was truly underground or he was using a porthole, Beej really didn't know, but Cryptus would end up there either way. In a moment, he had attached a note to Cryptus's large horns: _Kill me. Love, Beetlejuice and Juno_ \- and tossed the demon down the pipeline.

Sure, he hadn't worked with Juno in a couple of centuries, but he figured he was fighting for the side of good this time. Hopefully, she wouldn't mind too much.

Beej made his slow way back up to the lawn, starting from Sloane's little bubble and worming his way through the wreckage to prove that she had been inside when it happened. It was only with stabilization from him that the ruins of the house didn't collapse once more.

When he finally fought his way out, he found Sloane sitting on the scrubby lawn. She was pale and bleeding from several places, but nothing looked life-threatening. "How are ya doing, babe?"

"I'll live," she answered, not looking up at him. "I hit my head a few times during the collapse, I've got a lot of bad splinters in my arm, and I'm really dizzy, so I called an ambulance. They'll be here soon, so you should probably get out of here while you can."

"Sloane. Look at me." She glanced up at him, then away just as quickly. "What'sa matter, babe?"

"I'm just trying to come to terms with the fact that the voices I've been hearing aren't from a psychotic break, but from being haunted by an actual ghost." She looked up again and started to chuckle. "Besides, you've got a lot going on with your look."

"What does that mean?" Beej asked, jokingly offended as he flopped onto the ground beside her.

"Well, the hair and the stripes and everything. It's a lot, but about what I expected. The voice matches the look."

"Hey! I just saved your life a couple-a times, how about a little gratitude?"

She paused, inched closer, and kissed his cheek. "Thank you. I would be dead down there if it wasn't for you."

He always forgot how warm the living were and cleared his throat to distract himself. "Death isn't as bad as you breathers think it is, but you're welcome."

"Does this mean you have to start trying to scare us out again?"

"Technically speaking, I can't. I'm corporeal now, so being in your house exposes to afterlife to the living and whatnot." Beej shifted uncomfortably and admitted, "Besides, I kinda liked protecting someone for a change."

She eyed him in a way that made him feel uncomfortably exposed. "Maybe it's time to look into another line of business, Beetlejuice."

"Hey, watch the name! Too many more times and I'll end up back where I started."

Sloane laughed when he bumped her shoulder with his, but hissed a moment later and he felt bad for making her injuries worse. When she spoke, however, her voice was steady. "I keep expecting the ghost police to show up and take you away."

"We prefer to be called case workers," a raspy voice said from behind them. Sloane twisted delicately to see the newcomer, but Beej just closed his eyes. He knew that voice better than his own. "I'm Juno. I was Beetlejuice's boss for a while."

"I'm sorry," Sloane shot back immediately.

There was a moment of silence in which Beej turned around to face his old boss. She was staring inscrutably at Sloane, a lit cigarette smoldering in her hand, but then gave a chuckle that started smoke leaking from the slice across her throat. "Me, too."

"Come on," Beej grumbled. "I'm not that bad."

"I've just been informed that the demon Cryptus has been been destroyed, as per my orders." Juno lifted a thin eyebrow. "I suppose that was you?"

"Yeah, didn't think they'd kill him on my name alone," he admitted.

"Probably not. You've gone through a lot of trouble to make that name infamous." She switched her attention to Sloane. "And as for you. You don't use your gifts much, do you?"

"Gifts?"

"Well, you're a psychic, right?" Juno gave an exasperated sigh. "I can use people like you. Or, if you don't want to work for me, you need protection to stop things like this from happening."

"Things like ghosts hiring demons to kill people?" Sloane countered with a sarcastic expression showing through the pain on her face.

"Yes, things like that. Your protection would have warned you the house was haunted or that the ghost was belligerent before things got to this point. We should have caught your gifts years ago, but you must have slipped under the radar since you hide them."

"I don't hide anything," Sloane argued. "I've never heard voices before moving in here."

"It's possible that living in a haunted house was a catalyst for your abilities. Now we know and I'll follow up, but Beetlejuice and I need to have a conversation first."

"Wait!" Sloane cried out, making both Beej and Juno pause. Beej frowned. Was she about to argue for a lighter sentence for him? "What's going to happen to Jimmy now that his house has been destroyed?"

Juno shrugged. "He'll haunt this space until his sentence ends, house or no house."

The sound of approaching sirens caught the attention of the two ghosts. "We gotta go, babe," Beej said apologetically. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Thanks to you," Sloane pointed out. She leveled a stern look at Juno. "My friends and I are alive because of him. Go easy."

Juno scoffed. "I don't take orders from breathers. We'll be in touch."

Then they disappeared. The last sight Beej had of Sloane was of her wiping blood away from her eye as an ambulance pulled up and EMTs began bustling over with a stretcher.

* * *

Author's Note \- Well, this isn't the end, but we're close! There's an epilogue, to be posted on Halloween. Thanks for reading up to this point and I hope you'll be back for the final installment! Please consider leaving a review and have a great day!


	5. Epilogue

**The Ghost with the Most**

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own the rights to_ Beetlejuice_ or any related titles, plots, characters, settings, etc. These rights are the sole property of their legal owners. I own only the original elements of this story, the writing and publishing of which earn me no money.

* * *

Epilogue

Every once in a while, Sloane wondered what had become of Beetlejuice. She hadn't heard from him since the day the house had collapsed and couldn't help but worry that Juno had decided that the best plan for Beej would be to have him locked up somewhere. If there was ever a being that would do poorly in captivity…

Sloane cracked her wrist on a corner of an engine mount and jerked back with a curse. Perhaps elbow-deep in a Pontiac Fiero was a poor choice of time to think about the situation. She had already lost skin off all of her knuckles and that was when she _had_ been concentrating. But she was uniquely equipped to deal with the problem car, an owner's particular favorite despite its age and the well-documented fire issue-

"Should'a known I'd find ya here, babe."

Sloane skinned another knuckle pulling her hands away from the engine block, but it didn't matter. She glanced around inanely. She didn't see anything, but that didn't necessarily matter. Under the constant chaos of the garage, she hissed, "Beetlejuice?"

"Two more times, babe, and we're in trouble," he said with a chuckle. "I'm incognito right now."

"What are you doing here?"

"Trying to find you! I went to the house and it's a completely new place, filled with critters. Care to catch me up?"

"Where have you been?" Sloane hissed, for once glad that the garage was so noisy.

"Juno's office. Time passes differently in the Netherworld. How long has it been here?"

"Almost a year." It was true. Harper had just been on a shopping spree for Halloween decorations and Milo was preparing for this year's ghost tours.

"A year? Shit, that's worse than normal." Beej sounded more than a little ticked off by the information. "Well? Tell me everything that's happened?"

Sloane blew out a breath and tried to think of everything in a concise collective. "Well, the trucking company of the truck that hit the house offered to pay all of my hospital bills, including the ones for my stitches and the carbon monoxide poisoning, then gave me a small settlement besides." She narrowed her eyes. "Unusually generous, huh? Did you have something to do with it?"

"I mighta sent some juice out to certain parties before I went into the Netherworld."

"Well, thank you," Sloane said sincerely. "I was worried sick about our finances and that money helped keep us afloat. From there, our house insurance covered all the stuff we lost plus a little extra, thanks again to you, I assume. Our landlord offered to rebuild a house for us and give it to us straight out so we wouldn't give him a bad name in the community. After all, it was his fault that I was in the house when the truck hit."

"That's a real nice house for the generosity of a man who refused to replace a heater," Beej said dryly. He wasn't wrong.

"Well, that's the other thing. I went to the two hospitals whose doctors gave Jimmy conflicting prescriptions and spoke to them. No one ever followed up with them since Jimmy didn't have any family, but the news stories still gave them a lot of bad publicity. I told them about how much Jimmy loved animals and that we were setting up a shelter in his name to help abandoned animals. They both donated a pretty good amount of money."

Sloane reached into the engine to work at loosening the final bolt. "The landlord agreed to take some money to make the house plans into shelter plans, and we had enough left over to hire a really good staff. We have a vet that stops in a few times a week to check the animals over and make sure they have their shots. Animals get adopted fairly regularly and the whole thing runs off donations now. The staff are great. Jimmy gets to visit the animals and even interact with them and the staff just pretends they don't see a thing."

"Sounds like you've got it all worked out," Beej admitted, sounding obviously impressed.

"Well, sort of. Before we knew that the trucking company was going to pay my medical bills, Harper set up an online donation fund for us and we got a good bit of money, enough to pay off Harper and Milo's bills for the carbon monoxide and to put a down payment on a new house. Milo is running the town museum now and he's set up to do overnight ghost tours in the interactive wing for extra money. Harper is managing the candy store and is working on plans to open her own bakery. They're dating now."

A loud wolf-whistle came from the invisible ghost and Sloane couldn't fight back a grin. "Right? We all knew it was going to happen."

"What about you, babe?"

"Well, I manage this place now. The owner opened up a new shop across town, so I run things when he's not around, which is most of the time. I just come out here every now and then to work on some of the more difficult cars. The guys need my small hands sometimes," she explained, holding out a hand to study the grease caught in every crease.

"So, everything is working out for you," Beej summarized. Was it Sloane's imagination, or did he sound a little put out?

"Actually, do you mind if we go back into my office?"

"Sure, babe. Whatever ya want."

Sloane wiped her hands on a greasy rag and tossed it onto the rolling work station nearby, catching the attention of some of the other mechanics. "I've got the bolts all loosened. Can you guys get it from here?"

"Sure," one man called. "Thanks, Sloane."

"Anytime," she said with a smile. She let the cheerful expression drop as she closed the door to her office and collapsed into her desk chair.

"What's going on?"

"Well, it's just..." Sloane trailed off, trying to make eye contact with empty air. "Do you mind if we have this conversation face-to-face?"

"Fine with me," Beej said, popping into visibility before Sloane could say his name three times. His appearance was just as startling as it had been the first time she had seen him, though he seemed to be in slightly better condition. His black and white striped suit was well-pressed and, though his green hair was as wild as ever, it looked like he had done it on purpose.

He caught her confused glance at his self-sufficiency and grinned. "Ya never said my name again to take my juice away. I'm all-powered until you decide otherwise."

"So, what happened with Juno?"

He studied her with stern eyes, but apparently decided not to press his earlier question. "Jimmy-boy's sentence is a helluva lot longer now that he helped unleash a demon, but I'm guessing it'll be a lot more pleasant considering what ya did with his house. Nice touch, by the way."

"Thanks. Were you punished at all?"

"Nope!" he said, popping the 'p' with relish. "I protected a group of mortals and risked my own existence, not to mention that I took down a rogue demon. My own sentence is a lot shorter now. What's going on with you? You look dead - ba-dum _tsss!_ Is life as middle management that difficult?"

"No, work is easy. I've been helping the owner do this kind of stuff forever." Sloane busied herself trying to de-grease her hands with only hand sanitizer and a towel. It didn't work very well, but it kept her from making eye contact with the poltergeist on the other side of her desk. "But ever since I started hearing you and Jimmy, I hear ghosts everywhere and they notice me, too. It's been one thing after another this whole year and I'm so _tired_-"

Before Sloane could do something humiliating like start to cry, Beej chuckled. "Well, lucky for you, Juno sent me here to offer you protection. You're psychic enough that this is just gonna keep happening. As soon as ya opt in, you'll have your choice of Netherworld agents to protect you. You can meet 'em and everything. They'll basically be a bodyguard for ya, make sure no one and nothing messes with you or tries to take advantage of your gifts."

He hadn't said anything about specific agents on the list, but… Sloane met his dark-rimmed eyes, stark in his pale face, and asked, "Are- Can I choose you?"

Beej blinked twice and grinned widely, ruffling a hand through his green hair. "Babe, ya don't know how happy ya just made me by askin' that."

"Is that a yes?"

"Hell, yeah, that's a yes!" He smiled wider than she had ever seen. "I'm gonna be the best damn bodyguard ever. We'll be a team until you die, then we'll be the best team of bodyguards for other psychics! The Netherworld's never seen anything like us!"

"If I even become a ghost," Sloane countered, a bit dazed by his unexpected long-term planning.

"Psychic always become ghosts, babe."

"Oh." That was too weird to think about, so Sloane focused on other details. "Won't I have to work off my sentence first?"

"Nah, Juno already said she'll waive yours since you helped get rid of Cryptus and didn't tell any other breathers what you saw. Not even your roommates, which, I gotta say, is cold."

"They were happier not knowing," Sloane explained. She had debated for quite some time about whether to tell Harper and Milo what had really happened in their house, but had eventually decided against it. The trickiest part had actually been proposing the animal shelter. Sloane had been forced to claim a deep love of animals that she had hidden from the others due to embarrassment, but they had eventually believed her story.

"So, anyway, this new house of yours… It better be nicer than the last one!"

"It is, though it's haunted, too." Catching Beej's dark look, Sloane hastened to add, "The ghost isn't too happy about us moving in, but she hasn't tried to hire anyone to get rid of us or anything. She hasn't even been doing anything to try and get us out."

"Yet. Okay, let's go talk to the broad, see what her demands are and all of that."

"Hey," Sloane stopped him from leaving and gestured him back into the seat he had abandoned. The poltergeist flopped back down into the chair and straightened his black and white suit. His eyes were bright and he kept clenching and unclenching his fists. "Beej, you look like you're about to go in swinging. Calm it down, would you?"

"Okay, fine." This agreement lasted all of two seconds before he jumped to his feet and started for the door. "Let's go kick some ghostly ass!"

"You're a ghostly ass," Sloane muttered, but he either was too focused on his plans for Sloane's unintentional roommate to hear her or (more likely) had chosen to ignore her. Before Sloane followed him, she sent the owner of the garage a quick text informing him that she was taking a half-day. With that done, she gathered her things while trying not to chuckle at Beetlejuice waiting impatiently at the doorway. It would only encourage him and she had to avoid that. After all, eternity would be a long time to spend with a self-satisfied poltergeist. Sloane shook her head a bit at how odd her life had become - and it was only going to get worse.

As they stepped outside, Beej made a grab for her keys. "I'm driving! I've always wanted to drive a real car!"

"Hell, no!" Sloane refused sharply, pulling her keyring as far from him as she could manage. "I know you too well. You'll total it before we leave the parking lot!"

"Aw, babe, you're no fun," he pouted before shooting her a wicked grin. "Don't worry, I'll wear ya down."

He would, too. Beej was persuasive and tenacious, a horrific combination.

"This is my life now," Sloane groaned, mostly to herself, but Beej barked out a laugh and threw an arm around her shoulders.

"Sure is, babe! Let's get started!"

* * *

Author's Note \- Well, we're done here! This story was lots of fun to write and helped me learn to create subplots and different levels of tension. I know it has a high number of flaws: character development suffered due to the short length and I still went over my goal word count of 15k... but like I said, it was fun. Besides, I can't expect too much out a story caused by listening to _Beetlejuice: The Musical_ on repeat. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this little creation. Leave any feedback - good, bad, or ugly! Have a great day and happy Halloween!


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